


Horrifying Martyrdom

by ko_drabbles



Series: KyoKao Week 2k19 [2]
Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types, Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tokyo Ghoul, Anorexia, Auto-Cannibalism, Blood and Gore, Eating Disorders, Eye Trauma, Fluff and Angst, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, guro kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 06:59:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19290607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ko_drabbles/pseuds/ko_drabbles
Summary: It was no secret that Kyoya was sick. His thin frame attested it, so pale and tired, and what ghoul is those things if not sick or injured?It's fair to say that Kaoru didn't expect this...





	Horrifying Martyrdom

**Author's Note:**

> While this would probably be okay to read as a stand-alone, it's probably best if you go and read my other fic, Blue Blood Tastes the Same, first.

Kaoru wasn’t sure what led up to this.

Well, that was a lie. He knew full well, but the issue was that he hated to think about it; hated knowing that Kyoya was so thin and delicate for a reason. Because what ghoul starves themself? It doesn’t make sense, especially for those in the position they were. If they chose, they didn’t have to hunt or see the poor unfortunate who’d be that night’s dinner. They could be as removed from it all as they wanted and didn’t have to worry about anything other than eating what was provided.

But there had always been something off about the Ootori boys, according to the gossips who whispered amongst their friends. Picky eaters, strange habits, small meals. A delicate constitution. Kyoya was by far the worst, but the story always changed when he was asked. He didn’t like others watching him eat, he felt like his favourite cuts would cause something of a stir (that got a laugh, at least), he just wasn’t hungry, he was sick.

Yoshio seemed to stick to the excuse that his son was ill, the older ladies of their standing – the ones who weren’t ghouls – cooing over him and treating him like a china doll. In a sense, standing outside the bathroom door now, Kyoya having locked himself inside… The man wasn’t wrong. But he had a feeling, an instinctual pull at his gut, that told him it wasn’t the whole truth.

His knuckles rapped lightly against the door, hoping Kyoya would at least acknowledge him despite the gagging and stuttering breaths he could hear within. He saw Kyoya’s eyes briefly as he rushed into the restroom; wide, beautiful, bleeding into stunning black and crimson as he ran.

“Are you alright in there?” He inquired, pressing up against the solid wood as if this were some sort of video game, and he could magically glitch through to the other side.

He swore he could hear gasps of pain added to the mix, hissed through gritted teeth, and it scared him. Should he call Yoshio? One of Kyoya’s brothers? They were doctors, after all, and probably knew what the hell was going on with him. He was only supposed to be there to discuss the new menu, but that was when things took a turn for the worst and now –

Oh. Oh God, that couldn’t be it, could it? All that talk of food, flavours, textures… Something hollowed in the pit of his abdomen, some organs falling into the wrong places and twisting into knots. Especially when he only heard Kyoya’s unsteady breathing grow harder. More laboured. He futilely grabbed the door handle, twisting and hoping and wishing that it would unlock and put his mind more at ease, but it obviously didn’t.

“Don’t come in…” Came a quiet voice – a defeated _plea_ – from beyond the door. It was broken, but calmer. Not quite as forced, but it was still tinged with the aftershocks of desperation and _pain_ –

And it made his heart break, if just a little bit. Or a lot, if he was honest with himself. The manager and chef of a ghoul restaurant, it almost made him laugh. Cheesy. But the situation called for much more tact than that.

“I have to Kyoya,” He began, voice as soft as cotton in hopes of softening the next words from his lips, “I’m worried. Can you let me in?”

“You don’t want to see,” The reply came, quiet but all too rushed, “I’ll be fine. I’m a ghoul, remember? It’ll be o –”

“With some kind of illness no one else seems to know about,” He argued, forehead falling against the door, “I… I don’t know what’s going on. I can’t just hum ‘see you later’ and walk out the door like that. At least let me make sure… for my own sake, at least…”

There was a silence. It seemed to stretch on for eternity, Kaoru debating what the best course of action would be if he was ignored. He could kick the door in, but he could easily hurt Kyoya if he did that, and he didn’t want to make things worse than they were.

“… It’s ugly…”

Kaoru almost laughed at that, out of relief at hearing Kyoya’s voice more than anything. “That’s not going to bother me,” He promised, “Besides, as if someone like you could ever be anything less than beautiful.”

Was that too much? Probably. However, rather than overthinking that little (or, not so little) indulgence into his crush, he was greeted with the lock clicking off. Kyoya didn’t open the door, but at least he granted Kaoru access, and he took advantage before the other boy could change his mind.

Blood.

Blood everywhere.

The first thing he found was the previously white tile stained almost completely red. It was the first thing that drew his eye, and the sense of calm he’d gained dissipated instantly. How could anyone, especially a person as frail as Kyoya, bleed so much.

There he was, drenched in his own blood and curled into the corner of the room. The sight was something that should have disgusted him, but he only felt sorry for the broken boy, with some inappropriate lust thrown into the mix for an extra layer of **wrong**. One red and black eye stared back, the other replaced with a grotesque, _delicious_ injury.

“K-Kyoya…” He gasped, rushing in and nearly crashing to his knees beside the other boy. One beautiful eye was teary and raw around Kyoya’s long lashes, the other gouged out and missing. He could see the white bone of the eye socket, muscle tissue and lipids almost seeming to bubble inside; his body trying and failing to heal itself. It wasn’t dark or cavernous – not what you’d immediately think – and he had to will his own eyes to stay hazel, “What happened to your eye?”

He placed his hand on Kyoya’s trembling, bony shoulder; scapula protruding beneath his hand like wings attempting to sprout and escape his thin flesh. Kyoya Ootori, crying his one eye out on the bathroom floor. Despite his frail appearance, he still had a lot of dignity, so he doubted anyone would truly believe this unless they were witnessing it for themselves.

“I ate it.”

The admission was so quiet, steeped in shame. Because even fewer ghouls _eat themselves_.

“I was just so hungry, I couldn’t stop myself,” He laughed, high and bitter and jarring, causing Kaoru to flinch, “I hate eating, but I was starving and it tasted _so good_. Eyes are so delicious, letting them burst on your tongue and slip down your throat… _feels amazing_. But it’s okay, I’m in control again, I’m not some sort of uncontrollable beast like she was –”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Kaoru cut in, disturbed by his senpai’s almost manic ranting, “You don’t like eating? Is that… all this is? Kyoya, why? Can’t you see what you’re doing to yourself –”

“Of course, but I don’t care!” Kyoya snapped, “I can’t be a binger. It’s proof that I have the self-control she didn’t! I’m a monster, we’re monsters, but at least I’m _trying_!”

“Who… who are you even talking about?” Kaoru had to restart that sentence, something indignant at the thought of being called a monster by a fellow ghoul, but he forced the irrational emotion from him. Kyoya called _himself_ a monster, first and foremost, and it wouldn’t help to get angry. If anything, that would just discourage Kyoya telling him the truth about all this.

As he calmed, Kyoya lost the fight he’d clawed back, his remaining eyelid looking heavy and his shoulders slack. “You must know… Everyone knows. I can see it when they look at me. They’re waiting for me to gorge myself like my mother did…”

Oh. He should have known.

Really, he couldn’t say the Hitachiins really gave a shit about what Kyoya’s mother did, because she wasn’t that important. She was the disgrace you don’t mention if you’re polite. His own mother thought that lording her binge eating around as if that somehow made her better than everyone else was… distasteful. However, it’s not like they talked about it. Kaoru had honestly half-forgotten, only remembering when Kyoya said **that**. The reason why he didn’t eat. Kaoru would be lying if he said his heart didn’t break for this small, fragile boy who hid behind a powerful aura and iron will.

Kyoya was strong, and this didn’t change that. For a ghoul to pointedly ignore their hunger for as long as Kyoya did takes willpower. It’s painful, maddening, and this had been Kyoya’s life for years.

“What does it matter if they think that?” He inquired, shifting a little closer. He could feel the squelch of his blood-saturated trousers beneath his knees, but he didn’t particularly care. He touched their foreheads together, gazing into Kyoya’s remaining, pretty eye, “They don’t, but even so. It’s none of their business, and it’s more important to be healthy. You’re sick, Kyoya. Very sick.”

“We’re all sick,” He answered, and Kaoru was unsurprised. You can’t undo years of damage in a couple minutes, after all, even if that did kind of hurt.

He just nodded, standing to riffle through the cabinets. “Do you have a first aid kit in here?” He inquired, “Or at least some bandages?”

They’re in the small shelving unit beside the sink. Not that Kyoya’s room is at all dusty – but he expected more signs of stagnation within the supplies within the kit. A lotion or ointment out of date, perhaps. The issue is that it seems perfectly well-stocked, and while it does make sense for the son of a doctor, it makes him worry. If Kyoya took a bite out of himself today, it’s logical to think he’s done it before.

Instead of ruminating on that, he returns to his knees beside the boy, gently pressing a gauze pad to the empty eye socket and proceeding to carefully wrap the bandages around it. It seemed Kyoya was so desperate and reckless to eat _anything_ that he also tore off his eyelid. Probably gulped it down with the rest, and he _hates_ the arousal he can feel in his gut.

By the time he’s at the end of the bandage, Kyoya has thick layers of fabric obscuring his exposed eye socket and wrapped around his head, in the hopes of keeping it all in place. His black hair is sticking up over the white layers, and poking in between in places, and the image is somehow so adorable that he almost audibly coos. While there’s no way Kyoya can take him physically, he wouldn’t dare, if only because that would break whatever odd spell they’re currently under.

Instead, he slides an arm under Kyoya’s sharp knees and around those budding angel wings and lifts him in a princess carry. He’s so light – must be under a hundred pounds, surely, even at his height – and it’s worrying. The thin silver lining, however, is how Kyoya just nuzzles into the nape of his neck, arms looping around his shoulders.

He’ll get him some actual food soon, but for now, he places him down on that large, soft bed and snuggles up to Kyoya. He holds him like a porcelain doll, not wanting to bruise him, and pressed kisses to the skin behind the other boy’s ear until he hears the quiet snuffles and snores.

Then, he can rest. Nothing will change in a few hours, and they’ll be better prepared for the talk they have to have. But for now, he’ll sleep, curled up with his beautiful angel.


End file.
